Wilted Flowers
by queencestqueen
Summary: <html><head></head>What is this place? The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?</html>
1. Foxworth Hall

**Title:** Wilted Flowers  
><strong>Author:<strong> QueencestQueen  
><strong>Pairings: <strong>Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M (or E, depending on the rating system)

**Summary:**  
><em>What is this place? <em>The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

**Notes/Warnings:**  
>- AU for the entire series,<br>- Inspired by "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews  
>- This first chapter was edited by jameslawerences.<p>

**Disclaimer:**  
>All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.<p>

* * *

><p>Oliver straightened his jacket as he climbed out of the taxi and closed the bright yellow door behind him. He fixed the center button on the suit as he made his way up the walkway toward the mansion. Silence engulfed him as the taxi pulled away, heading back for civilization. <em>What is this place?<em> The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." It loomed large over the landscape of the countryside, and not in a good way. Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like the Queen Mansion. Their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread.

What the hell had happened during those five years? He had some of the pieces to the puzzle, but not all of them, and what he did know made no sense. How had all their family money been lost? Surely there had to have been some safeguards? Surely, his father would have been able to find a way to make sure they were both taken care of. It didn't make sense, but it happened nonetheless. According to Tommy, seven months after the Gambit sank, his mother had sold off Queen Consolidated and six months after that the two remaining Queens had been forced to abandon Starling City entirely. Those were all the details Tommy knew about, but it had given him a place to start.

It had taken him awhile to get even an inkling of where to find his mother. There had been no mention of Thea. Surely, at seventeen, she would be making a name for herself; a better name then he'd made for himself at that age. Something was seriously wrong here and he couldn't let it go. He wanted to accomplish two tasks at once: righting the wrongs of his father while simultaneously finding the rest of his family, but the task proved too arduous. He tried to enact vengeance on the names on his father's list to honor his memory, but his focus on that task just wasn't possible while the looming question of his mother and sister's fate was still out there. No, he decided, the mission his father had given him would have to wait. Finding and reconnecting with his family was more important. He trusted that his father would agree with this decision.

Three months after returning home from the island, his search brought him to this foreboding mansion. As he researched more and more into Foxworth Hall, Oliver became more and more certain that his mother and sister would indeed be there. This was his mother's childhood home, and the most likely place they would come to after having to abandon Starling. After all, where else would someone run when they were in trouble? Home.

That hypothesis had seemed much more plausible, however, before he viewed the house in person. How could this dark place possibly be their mother's childhood home? How could it be anyone's childhood home? The grand estate wasn't inviting in any way. As a matter of fact, the house screamed 'stay the fuck away.' God, he hoped his mother and sister had not stayed here long. The idea of his bright, chipper baby sister being forced to live in this place made him unhappy.

He grasped the antiqued door knocker in his hand and brought the heavy thing down on the wood twice. He just hoped that these people, his grandparents, could tell him where to find his family. Oliver wasn't even aware of the fact that his mother's parents were still alive until he started his research, growing up his mother seemed to avoid any mention of them whatsoever. It was all very strange. He needed answers and this was the place he was hopefully going to finally get them after almost nine months.

When no one came to answer the door, he raised the bronze handle and brought it down again. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened to reveal a very old man in a butler's uniform. The man did not look welcoming as he stared at Oliver with blank, uncaring eyes. "May I help you?," he coughed.

"Yes," Oliver said, a little thrown by the man's disposition, "I'm looking for Moira-"

"Is Ms. Foxworth expecting you?" the butler asked, cutting Oliver's sentence short. _Ms. Foxworth? Why would mom go back to her maiden name?_

"No," he said, pulling himself to his full height just in case he had to force his way past the man, "I imagine that she isn't."

"Who may I say is calling?" the elderly man asked, his eyes quickly scanning Oliver.

"Oliver Queen."

There was a fraction of a second when the man's eyes widened at the utterance of this surname, but the butler was quick to recover. He nodded and stepped back to allow Oliver entrance into the grand estate. He stepped into the large foyer, eyes sweeping immediately around the room looking for any possible threats automatically. There was a large spiral staircase to the left of him that the butler passed completely in favor of the far left door. "Please, remain here."

Inside, as it turned out, was even more intimidating then the outside. The walls were made of polished mahogany and the floors appeared to be marble. There were doors off the foyer then he'd ever seen in one room. The impression it gave off made him feel like he was waiting his turn to be interrogated and like he was being judged even though he was alone. It was...well, the only word he could think of was creepy.

"-sure he said his name was Oliver Queen?" The sound his mother's voice drifted into room and Oliver turned to face the door the other man exited through. He'd been waiting five years and nine months for this moment. Finally, he would be reunited with his family. It had been a long time coming.

"Yes, ma'am." The door he was facing opened then and out walked his mother, closely followed by the elderly butler

"Oliver?" Her voice was a whisper of shock as she caught sight of her son. She froze to that spot and he looked at her for a long while. She looked older then he remembered, but that was to be expected after so long. Her hair was still blonde for the most part, though he suspected that there might be a few silver strands among the tresses, and there were a few more lines around her eyes, but she still had that classic beauty to her. Oliver felt a weight lift off his shoulders at the sight of her; Mom meant home and home was everything good.

Moira took a couple steps toward him eagerly and Oliver prepared to be embraced, but then she stopped completely. He watched confused as she turned instead to face the grumpy old man watching them with beady eyes. "My mother?" She asked, voice going childlike at the question. _What an odd question, _Oliver thought as his keen eyes absorbed everything about the unusual interaction.

"Gone to church, madam."

"How long has she been gone?"

"Half an hour ago, miss."

At that, the mother he remembered returned. She quickly dismissed the butler before she made her way to and embraced him. It was awkward, at first; it had been so long since he was hugged that he wasn't quite sure how to deal with such interactions anymore, but it didn't seem to deter her in any way. "Oh, my sweet boy." She whispered, clinging to him, tears trailing down her cheeks and into the fabric of his shirt. "I never thought…" She trailed off.

After a few seconds of hugging while he awkwardly patted her on the back, Moira finally released him. She composed herself quickly, though she continued to stare at him. He didn't blame her for it; he couldn't look away from her either, his mind again taking in all the changes the past five years had brought her. "Come on, let's go to the sitting room and talk," she suggested, taking his elbow and leading him to the door on his left.

For the next hour, mother and son talked...or rather, she talked and asked him questions about his "time away" and he answered in vague generalities or skillfully dodged the inquires. As time passed, more and more of the woman he remembered appeared and the stranger who had stood so stiffly next to that butler faded away. It was...nice.

Until _she_ barged into the room, that is. She was a massive woman, very broad and intimidating as she said, "Moira."

Oliver watched as his mother was replaced with that formal woman in under a second. She sat up rim-rod straight as she shifted her weight slightly in her seat to look at the hulking woman framed in entrance. "Mother," she greeted in a voice that her son recognized as her "putting up with idiots" voice, "how was the service today?"

"You would know if you had attended," the woman replied with ice in her tone that even had Oliver straightening in his seat.

"I had every intention-"

"You know what they say about intentions, my dear." The term of endearment rang false and the room fell silent before the older woman turned her watery blue gaze to him. "And who exactly is your guest?"

Oliver opened his mouth to introduce himself, but his mother cut in before he could utter a sound, "Jonas Quentin," she said breathlessly, "an old friend from Starling City." She turned to face him then, eyes wide and begging him not to disagree, "Jonas, I'd like to introduce you to my mother, Olivia Foxworth."

He stood up and extended his hand politely, "Mrs. Foxworth." She took his proffered hand with a look of calculating suspicion. She shook his hand tightly and he took the opportunity to truly examine his grandmother.

She was a tall, burly woman with hard blue-gray eyes. Her lips were pulled into a tight disapproving frown that forced the pins in her silver hair to hold tighter to her head to keep her hair in place. Even the lines on her face spoke of the anger that this woman lived with. Olivia Foxworth was clearly not a happy person.

How was it that this steely-eyed woman was his maternal grandmother? She seemed to greatly dislike people, given the way that she looked at both him and his mother. How could a mother look at her own child in such a way? Neither of his parents had ever looked at him like that, no matter how many mistakes he made in his youth.

"What brings you to Foxworth Hall, Mr. Quentin?" Once more he opened his mouth to try to answer, she interrupted him before he could respond to her query. "Have you come to congratulate my daughter on her successful first year of marriage?"

Marriage? He turned to face his mother again. She gave him nothing so he turned back to his grandmother, "I was unaware of this news. I've been away for quite some time." He slowly turned away to face his mother once more. "Congratulations on your new marriage, Mrs….?" He let the question trail off to prompt a response from her.

"It's just Ms., Jonas, I've decided to keep my maiden name." She answered in the soft spoken tone she'd acquired since her mother entered the room, "Walter understands my line of thinking."

"Walter? As in Walter Steele?"

"It's complicated, sweetheart." Moira said, taking a single step in his direction.

"Sweetheart?" Olivia echoed, raising a disbelieving eyebrow. Her tone was steady and yet angry. It set Oliver on edge as he stood firmly between the two older women.

"It's just an expression, Mother," Moira said, moving to stand next to her son, "I've known Jonas since he was a boy. He's like a son to me."

_Like a son to me_, the words bounced around his head and all the confusion of the day wore on him suddenly. Why was she even here? Why was she lying about his name and his relation to her? What worried him most, however, was the lack of Thea. Where was she? Surely, she should have been home by now; it was growing dark outside and this behemoth of a mansion was on a long winding road. She should be home now, shouldn't she? She was eighteen by now, but still… in addition, their mother had not mentioned her once in all of her conversational babble from earlier. Where was his little sister?

The elder woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at the two of them, standing together. He was just waiting for the silence to break. He could feel the shatter coming, but there was nothing to be done about it. "Well," said his grandmother suddenly, making his mother jump a little, "Dinner shall be in a few minutes. I'll have a place set for you, Mr. Quentin." With that declared, she spun on her heel and exited the room, closing the door behind her. Her grey taffeta dress flared out behind her a bit, disappearing a second after she left the doorway. He stood there, staring at the empty doorway for a few seconds before turning to face his mother once more. It was time for some answers.

"I know you're confused," Moira said and Oliver made an aborted noise of disbelief that had the woman's lips quirking slightly. "Heavens how I missed you, my boy," she whispered, falling back into the seat she'd previously occupied. Oliver retook his seat too, not taking the bait his mother had tried for. His mother took a deep sigh and looked down. "This isn't going to pleasant for you to hear."

"I still need to hear it."

She nodded, pushing her hair back away from her face, "Your father and I, we always expected that we'd live long, happy lives together, grow old, side by side. Why wouldn't we think that? We were happy and in love and people like that, they always lose touch with the real world a bit." A small smile came to her lips then, "Your father and I weren't perfect, no couple is, and we had our problems, but we did love each other."

"I know that already," Oliver interjected, and Moira's attention focused back in on him with a frown before she nodded once more.

"Yes, I suppose that you do," she admitted softly, "I just had to say it. It's been so long since… anyway, when Queen Consolidated began to flourish, your father and I grew opulent. We kept buying and buying just because we could. Robert wanted me to live in the world of the upper-class that I'd grown up knowing. Then there was you and Thea and we wanted the best for both of you so we continued to live in splendor because, as I said, why wouldn't we?" She folded her hands in her lap, "Neither of us ever thought that it could all fall apart."

Oliver reached over and laid his hand upon hers as a tear fell down her cheek. He'd always hated seeing his mother sad and in pain, and now it was all written on her face. He couldn't begin to imagine what these last almost six years of not knowing had been like for her. He hadn't been lying when he said he already knew that his parents had loved each other because he'd seen it growing up. Sure, the final years of their marriage it had been strained, but even then he knew there'd been love there. He couldn't even contemplate how hard it must have been for his mother to lose his father or how difficult she must have found it to give up hope for his return. He knew there was a reason that she hadn't asked why his father wasn't with him when he arrived. Perhaps she figured getting both of them back was too much of a miracle to hope for. _If she only knew how little of me has actually returned from that island. _

"After you and your father went missing, Oliver, I kind of lost my way. I'm ashamed to admit it. Thankfully, Thea was stronger than I was and she basically raised herself for that first year." Oliver smiled. Of course she did. His Speedy was resourceful. "By the time Walter showed up and pulled me out of my funk, it was already too late. The house of cards Robert and I had built had already started to crumble." She paused to sigh and look down again. "The company was crumbling and all these bills were suddenly coming due, bills that I had thought were already taken care of. It was one thing after another really and I had no options but to come here, to move back in with my parents."

It was the singularity of that final statement that caught Oliver's attention. _She_ had to come here and move back in with her parents. Not they. Yet again, Oliver was left wondering, where was Thea?

So he asked. "Mom...where is Thea in all of this?"

Moira paled then and slipped her hands from under his. She stood and made her way over to the window that looked out on top the massive hilltop front yard. "She had a rough time of it. First, she lost her father and her brother at the same time; then she was being forced to leave the only home she'd ever known. It was rough on her, Oliver."

He didn't respond to this information, not because he didn't believe her, but because he was too busy focusing on the past tense of her statements. His anxiety was high as he waited impatiently for her to finish the story. He refused to speculate on the could-be of it all and forced him to await the truth.

"She didn't want to move. Acted like the thirteen-year-old she was and passive aggressively acting out about it. She kept-" A sharp almost sad laugh escaped her then and she turned half a step to face him, "She kept insisting that if we moved somewhere else you wouldn't be able to find us." Moira shook her head, "Thea was so positive that you were still alive, Oliver, even when everyone else kept saying otherwise. Thea was so certain. It was so odd, too, because it was _just you_ that she insisted was coming back. Not your father, not Sara, just you." She smiled slightly at him just before she turned back to the window as she whispered, "Somehow, she was right."

The past tense got to him then. Thea _was_ so positive, _was_ so certain, _was_ right. "Why do you keep saying 'was?' " Oliver insisted, standing up and making his way over to his mother. He put his hand on her shoulder and forced her gaze away from the well-manicured lawn outside. "Where is Thea?" Her blue eyes wouldn't meet his. "Mom, where is Thea?"

She raised her eyes to his slowly, "She's dead, Oliver."

The floor dropped out from under him then. Dead. Dead. His Speedy was dead? "No. No." Oliver insisted, removing his hand from his mother's padded blazer shoulder, taking two shaky steps backwards, "No, that-that can't be right. Mom, it- you have to be wrong."

She left the window then and bridged the gap between them. She grabbed his face in both her hands and forced him to meet her eyes, "It is true, Oliver. I'm sorry but it is." A tear fell down her cheek as he watched. "I'm the one who found her."

"Found her?" He echoed, voice sounding hollow to his own ears.

Moira nodded sadly, "We didn't have enough cash on us to fly across the country so we were forced to drive it. We were staying at a motel in Arkansas and she was still pouting about having to leave the mansion. She just kept going on and on about us needing to be where you could find us. It had been hours of this same speech, Oliver, you have to understand that. Over and over." She sighed, "I just couldn't take it anymore. I told her to give it up, I said that she needed to grow up, that you were dead and you weren't coming back." A little sob broke her voice then. "I didn't know," she whispered, "I didn't know that it was what was propping her up, giving her strength."

"Finish it." Oliver insisted, his tone was a mix of sorrow interlaced with anger. Moira shook her head again, but her son would have none of it. "Finish the story, mother."

"I left to go get us dinner and she was going to take a shower. I didn't see it coming." Moira took a shaky breath and dropped her eyes again, "When I came back, I found her in the bathtub, Oliver, she'd used a pair of manicure scissors and-"

A sob interrupted her then and Oliver was surprised to find that it had come from his own mouth, "Where? Where is she buried, Mom?"

"She isn't." Her hands dropped from his face then to his shoulders, "I knew she'd want to be buried beside you two, but I couldn't. That wasn't our land anymore…and those were just stones anyway so I had her cremated and her ashes scattered on the ocean."

Thea. Thea was dead. Thea who'd always smiled when he walked into the room when she was just a baby. Thea who would come to him for help on her math homework even when she stopped needing it just to spend time with him. Thea who hated swimming just as much as he did even though both their parents insisted on lessons. Thea who'd spent a good proportion of her childhood following him around. His Thea. The bright loving smile that he had seen in his memories that kept him fighting for five hellish years in the hopes of seeing again; that smile had been forever extinguished. His Speedy was dead.

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><p><strong>AN:** Future chapters will be posted as soon as I feel comfortable doing so. Please review if you like this or any of my other stories for that matter.


	2. Rough Night

**Title:** Wilted Flowers  
><strong>Author:<strong> QueencestQueen  
><strong>Pairings: <strong>Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M (or E, depending on the rating system)

**Summary:**  
><em>What is this place? <em>The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

**Notes/Warnings:**  
>- AU for the entire series.<br>- Inspired by "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews  
>- This chapter was not beta'd, unfortunately.<p>

**Disclaimer:**  
>All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.<p>

* * *

><p>Oliver turned on his side, giving up on sleep for the moment. His mind was simply too busy thinking over all that he'd learned that day to allow him rest. For one thing, there was his mother. She acted so strangely whenever someone else was around, especially her own mother. It was as if she were separate people. Around him alone, she was the woman he remembered: opinionated, sure, and strong. Around Olivia, she was quiet, demur, and meek. The changes were often so sudden that they threatened to give him whiplash. Then there were the lies and he didn't really understand that. Why was she lying? Why didn't she just say "hi mother, I'd like you to meet my son, Oliver?" Why had she called him Jonas Quentin and said he was like a son to her? He was her son, no like about it. Any attempt he'd made to pin her down after dinner to question these things had been thwarted by his grandmother.<p>

Olivia. She too was plaguing his thoughts. She was intimidating in a way that he found hard to define. Her eyes were hard and calculating. When she looked at him, he suspected that she saw through the lies she was told. He wondered, though, why she didn't call the two of them out on the lie. She didn't seem the type of woman to tolerate liars. He also wondered why, when he saw no warmth in her eyes, she had invited him to stay the night when a thunderstorm suddenly overcame Foxworth Hall. Clearly, she was suspicious of him, he supposed that she should be. Who in their right mind invited someone they didn't trust to stay a night in their home? Maybe she just posessed a keep one's enemies closer sort of mentality. He was just grateful that he'd not had to trudge down that steep hill in the rain.

Her husband, Malcolm, was also a source of confusion for Oliver. The old, slightly tarnished metal wheelchair and cotton blanket covering his legs were deceiving. It quickly became apparent that Malcolm Neal Foxworth was not the feeble old man Oliver assumed he was upon their meeting. He was steely-eyed and sharp-tongued. He dealt more backhanded comments to both his wife and daughter then Oliver could keep count of over the hour and a half that the four of them spent eating together. He made a point of telling the younger man of his wealth and considerable power as if Oliver should be impressed by such things. Around Malcolm. Moira changed yet again into the doting daughter. This was the worst change for Oliver to witness. Malcolm didn't deserve such attention, not when he spoke so unkindly towards them both and yet Moira still bestowed kindness upon him. It was maddening to watch.

All of that though was only taking up a small portion of his thoughts, the rest of his time his mind was consumed with thoughts of a little sister now truly lost to him. For some unknown reason, the only thing he could really recall was the memory of Thea's fifth summer and she was convinced that, if she simply believed hard enough, she could fly. Luckily for everyone, he'd managed to snag her before she leapt from the mansion roof in an attempt to prove her theory. She'd been so very mad at him for messing up her plan. She'd shouted at him and informed him that it "wasn't nice of him to change into a grown up!" Her little face had gotten so red. Of course, Thea hadn't held that grudge long at all and within an hour he was back to being her bestest friend again. But he hadn't been so quick to forget and terrible feelings had eaten away at him for having been the one to crush her dream. It didn't matter that he had probably saved her life as a result. He had just had to fix it.

One day, shortly before she was to start first grade, he spent all day running her ragged. Once she passed out from exhaustion, he carried her to one of their Towne Cars and had a family driver take them to the closest amusement park. After he woke her, he had her promise not to peek and covered her eyes with her little hands. He quickly got them both admission tickets and settled her on the swing carousel seat securely. He once more made her promise to keep her eyes shut and placed her hands on the safety bar in front of her. He slipped fluffy earmuffs on her ears right after he told her that she was "finally going to fly." He took the seat on the outside of her own and prepared to enjoy the simple, but fun attraction. Thea's delighted grin as she held her tiny arms out to her sides as the ride spun around and around made Oliver feel much like a child himself. He too had held out his arms and she quickly took his outstretched hand. The two of them had stayed on that ride until the park was just about to close. When the siblings once more climbed in the Towne Car, Thea fell asleep on his shoulder quickly, but not before she sleepily declared him "the best big brother in the whole universe." Memories such as that had given him the power to survive Lian Yu.

In all the time he searched for his family, not once had it ever occurred to him that she wouldn't be here. She was a certainty in his life, the only one he'd never doubted would love him. She was Thea. His Speedy. She was strong, brave and bright. He didn't understand how she could do what she did. It just wasn't like her. His mother's words bounced around his head, though, as he considered Thea's actions. _"Thea was so positive that you were still alive, […] even when everyone else kept saying otherwise."_ It didn't surprise him that his little sister had ignored all the naysayers and stuck stubbornly to her beliefs. That was who Thea had always been: determined, certain. It made him feel vindicated that, at least, his Speedy had known the truth. Though he did wonder what it was that had given her that certainty. Why had she believed when no one else had?

"…_propping her up, giving her strength."_ He had found strength in thinking of his little sister. He'd known that when, never if, he returned home everything would be different and the more time that passed the more he was certain that he would forever be slightly alienated from the people in his life. None of his relationships could ever feel the same after so much time had passed, but at least when it came to Thea, he felt like it wouldn't matter in the long run. She was his sister, he was her brother; they were solid, connected. He'd never had to worry that he wouldn't have her in his life when he returned. But clearly, he should have considered it.

He punched his pillow as his thoughts once more found their way to her death. Why hadn't he been here for her? He should have been! He should never have gotten on that damned yacht! None of them should have. If he'd only been here, he could have helped her, could have saved her. If he hadn't been running from the mess he'd made of his love life, he would have been here, but he'd chosen to destroy his relationship with Laurel by using Sara and now he'd lost the only person in his life who'd always loved him. If that wasn't karma kicking his ass, he didn't know what was.

He swung his legs out from under the thin, scratchy covers of the guest bed and made his way over to the large window seat. The tiny switch locks were quickly undone and the window panes were swung open before he sat down upon the cushy seat. Rain rushed in with help from the wind and pelted his skin, but he didn't mind. The cold drops felt good as he let his head fall back against the cushion. It was as if the heavens themselves were mourning his loss in a way that he could not. He'd lost too much to shed tears any longer so the sky did it for him. His eyes finally drifted shut and soon he was asleep, though it was neither peaceful nor dreamless.

_He reached out, frantic to catch her hand before the greedy ocean pulled her away, but he couldn't bridge the two inches that separated their fingertips. Her bright gree hues met his and she shot him a slightly nervous smile and then she was overtaken by the water. "Thea!" He shouted, pleading for the ocean to give her back, and all of the sudden, he was no longer standing on the Queen's Gambit. He was kneeling by the side of a plaster bathtub, blood covered hands clung to the side as he peered into the shallow depth of water. The water was a diluted pink color that didn't hinder his view of her beneath it. She looked almost peaceful as she floated there, the tip of her nose just peeking above the water line, but she wasn't peaceful. Blood was still seeping from her wrists and every time Oliver tried to grab her, pull her out, his hands always came up empty, but stained with her crimson blood. "Thea!" He shouted, hoping that she'd open her eyes for just a second and see him there, see that she wasn't alone anymore. "Thea!"_

"Oliver." _He turned, looking over his shoulder, but there was no one there. He shook his head and reached for Thea again. Once more all that emerged was his hands covered in blood, her blood. Wetness fell upon his cheeks as he attempted yet again to wipe his hands clean on his clothes. It wouldn't come off and he'd not expected any different. Of course her blood was permanent, like the scars that littered the rest of his body, because he had done this. He'd murdered her because he'd been too scared to just admit that things between him and Laurel weren't working. If he'd just been brave enough to say the words...but he'd used actions and now Thea was dead. Because of him. Because he'd failed. "Thea!"_

"Oliver!"

He was thrown suddenly into reality and the dream faded like vapor. He stared at his mother unable to comprehend her presence for a moment. Why was she there? Lian Yu was no place for her!

He gripped her arm, ready to toss her to the ground to keep her safe when their surroundings registered in his foggy consciousness. They weren't on Lian Yu; they were in Foxworth Hall, the home of his not-so-kind maternal grandparents. His mother was looking at him in a way he'd never seen before. It took a couple seconds for him to realize: she was afraid of him. Why?

"You're hurting me, Oliver." It was said in a soft whisper, but it hit him like a punch to the stomach. He watched in horrified fascination as, in a bright flash of light through the open windows at his back, the pink marks of his fingers began to fade as soon as he released his tight grip. "Oliver," she called again, drawing his attention away from the harm he'd almost done her, "you were screaming."

"For Thea," he supplied as a fragment of his dream resurfaced. She sighed slowly and reached for him. He leaned his head into her touch for just a second, taking comfort in her presence.

"You can't do that," she said in that soft whisper and he straightened up immediately, "scream," she clarified with a small frown. "My parents are very particular."

"Why are you so afraid of them?"

"I'm not afraid of my parents," she countered stubbornly, but he shot her a disbelieving look and she changed her tact. "They are very particular," she repeated. "anything that doesn't fit their narrow views is abhorrent to them. The consequences of not fitting their mold are...severe. I lived under that tyrannical rule until I met your father and now I am once more under their thumb."

"So don't be." It was a simple enough solution. "Walter must want you with him." It took everything in him not to flinch when saying that. "I don't understand why you're here if it's so terrible."

It was only when she stood up, and moved to close the windows he'd opened earlier, that he realized he had been laying on the floor. Huh. He must have rolled off the window seat while he was asleep. She knelt upon the cushions and pulled the windows closed, latching them in the process, before she spoke once more. "I screwed up, sweetheart. I let that everything your father and I worked so hard for slip away and I need to get it back." She turned to face him then, taking a seat on the plush blue velvet seats seemingly unmindful of the fact they were soaked with rain water. "In order for me to do that I need money and, as you probably noticed during dinner, my father is unwell." He nodded absently as the puzzle pieces started slotting together. "Now that I'm finally back in his good graces, I have to play his game and not do anything to risk my inheritance again. If I can just keep him thinking that I'm the daughter he wants until his will is read then I'll finally be able to undo the damage I caused."

_Except to Thea_, he thought bitterly but as soon as the idea flitted across his mind he felt guilty. It was his fault, not hers. Needing a distraction from the direction of his thoughts, Oliver asked, "Again?"

She closed her eyes briefly and folded her hands together. "Malcolm and Olivia are both a part of this small religious group. They've been members since before I was born and because of that, until I met Robert, I too was a member of the congregation. There are many, many obscure rules one must abide." She paused for a moment, searching her mind for examples. "Technology is a big deal breaker for them...that's why you won't find a phone on the property. You won't get a signal on your cellphone either until you cross through the gates back onto the main road."

That was...odd, but surely no reason for her to have been disinherited. Well, unless Malcolm was such an unreasonable zealot, which had not been a part of Oliver's original assessment of the man. It was possible that he'd been off the mark about his grandfather, but he'd gotten really good at reading people during his time on Lian Yu.

"One of these rules of their religion," she continued, "is that daughters may only marry if their father gives his blessing. Without it, in the views of their religion, a marriage is unholy and thusly against God." She met his eyes then, a truth never before spoken shining there. "My father disapproved of Robert and Robert disliked my father so he never really tried to change his mind. I knew getting my father's blessing for our marriage wasn't going to happen. I didn't really give a damn. I didn't, and still don't, believe as they do so what did I care if by the restrictions of their religion our marriage wasn't valid? I loved Robert and I was going to be his wife, come hell or high water."

She smiled then and Oliver recognized it as the smile that she'd always reserved for his father. It both warmed and hurt his heart to see it. Not for the first time, Oliver felt that the wrong man had taken the bullet that night. His father had someone here who loved him. So far in his nearly two years home, all he'd managed to do was hurt and endanger people he cared about. Tommy, Laurel, Felicity. Hell, even Helena and Sara had suffered in one way or another because it was he who returned. It should have been his father.

"My father was so enraged when we'd returned to tell them that we had wed. He called me a whore, claimed we were bound for Hell, and, here I do quote, 'marriages against God would bear no good fruit, only spawn of the devil.'" Children. Her father had said that any children they might have would evil. Him. Thea. Evil. That was just ridiculous!

"He only allowed me back, forgave me my 'indiscretion' after you and your father were... You were gone, Thea was..." Yet again, the sentence faded away into silence. "There was no reason to risk his anger again by telling him about you two and now..."s

"Now the lie has gone on too long to tell the truth." Oliver supplied and she nodded almost eagerly. He understood her train of thought. The lie she'd told, about who he was, was hurting no one and it wasn't as if he needed or wanted grandparents; he'd always just assumed they'd died when his mother was young and that was why they were never spoken of. "I'll play along as best I can."

Moira smile then, relaxed and bright. "You'll stay until lunch tomorrow, won't you? Walter's flying in tomorrow morning. The three of us can grab lunch in town so we won't have to be constantly on guard." At his look of weariness she persisted, "Please, Oliver? He is my husband now and I would so like it if you could find some way to be okay with that, sweetheart."

A smart man knows when he's beaten. His mother was the only family he had left. He couldn't let his reluctance to accept her new love separate them. He couldn't lose her too.

He nodded and she disappeared out his door, needing no more assurances then that. He stayed there for a moment, sitting on the expensive carpet, shivering as his wet nightclothes, borrowed from Walter's closet. What would his mother have said to her father if Thea hadn't lost her way? He shook his head, disappointed in himself for even pondering the what-if. Doing so would give him nothing but more sorrow. He made his way to the bathroom to warm his chilled skin and was determined not to think anymore.

After his shower, Oliver felt warmed but still unable to sleep so he redressed in his borrowed nightclothes, still wet from the rain but wearable, and decided to explore the large mansion. His mother had taken him on a brief tour of the estate after it became apparent that he would be staying the night. He wanted to know more, wanted to see all the nooks that his mother might have hidden inside when playing hide-and-seek as a child, things like that to soften the harsh impression he had of this mammoth estate. This house, these mysterious grandparents, they were pieces to the mystery that was Moira Foxworth Queen and Oliver hated mysteries.

He crept quietly down the hall, sneaking noiselessly past his mother's bedroom. Inwardly he had groaned when she presented him with the opulence behind that door. She was so proud of what her father's money had bought her. She'd always enjoyed the perks of money before, but this...this pride she took in it was verging on adolescent. He simply could not reconcile the woman he remembered with the one he'd met since arriving at Foxworth Hall.

He'd hidden his confusion and displeasure with her change well, using the same carefree partyboy mask he showed everyone who'd known him before, and complimented his mother on her courageous design choices. That huge, ugly swan bed was just so...overpowering though, he'd had to make his exit quickly before his mask slipped and his disgust for such overindulgence showed through. Before the island, he'd reveled in their family's rich lifestyle and now the mere glimmer of such attitudes made him angry.

Oliver was just about to head downstairs, maybe go check out the damage from last night's storm when someone began to come up the staircase. In the light of a new day the sight of Olivia Foxworth still set alarm bells off in Oliver's mind. Was it the color of her dress? The thin pressed line of her mouth? The steel in her gaze? Oliver couldn't pin his unease and distrust on any one factor and that was what really made him cautious. He'd gotten very good at identifying enemies over the years and Olivia Foxworth, his own maternal grandmother, was an enemy, but she was the most dangerous kind. The enemies he couldn't truly define had always been his most fearsome.

As she drew closer to him, he ducked back into his room and stealthily watched her as she passed his door. Her focus was upon a door at the end of the hall, however, and she'd failed to notice his hastily made retreat or the fact he was watching her. He, on the other hand, took note of everything he could. In her rather large hands she carried a picnic basket of about medium size that, based upon the smells that wafted in as she passed, contained reheated selections from last night's dinner and a jug of milk from what he could see of the top. She stopped in front of the door, shifted the weight of the basket to her left arm and pulled a single key from the right pocket of her dress. She slipped the key in the lock and with a simple turn of it and the knob she opened the door and entered the room.

Once the door closed behind her, Oliver stepped out into the hall once more. His ears picked vague, muffled words that he attributed to Olivia. Who was she bringing food to? Based on what he'd been told during his quick tour, Malcolm, Olivia and Moira were the only ones to live on this top floor of the house. The live in servants, like that unusual butler who answered the door, all lived on the first floor in the quote "servants' quarters." There should be no one in that room and yet the aging woman had carted that basket up those stairs and at such an early hour too. Why?

His ears strained to make out any further sounds from the room, but the only voice he ever heard was Olivia's. Yet another mystery to add to the ever growing pile since he arrived at Foxworth. Quick on his feet, Oliver turned and pretended to be utterly absorbed in a painting on the wall near him as the woman exited the room in question. He pretended not to see her or that she slid that key in the lock and clicked the mechanism in place. What was she hiding in there?

"Good morning, Mister Quentin," she said and he jumped as if he were startled by her sudden appearance at his side. "I'm surprised to see someone else up so early. Did you not sleep well?"

"I'm an early riser these days." He stated simply and she nodded, taking his explanation at face value. "Thank you for your hospitality last night, Mrs. Foxworth."

Her face wore a bored and neutral expression as she replied, "It is my husband you should be thanking, Mister Quentin, not myself." She turned to face him then and he instinctively mirrored the change, "My husband has a weak spot where Moira is concerned and so you stayed the evening, but you would do well to not overstay your welcome."

He frowned slightly as he considered her word choice, "But you do not?"

"Do not what?"

"Have a weak spot when your daughter is involved?"

A dry, rattling laugh escaped her cracked lips. "No, I see that girl for all the evil that she is and all the darkness she creates."

Evil, darkness, heavy words for someone to say about their own child. His frown pulled deeper and, just as he opened his mouth to defend his mother, she appeared at his side and pulled him away from the conversation. "Never, ever engage my mother in a one-on-one conversation," she whispered urgently. "She can see through a lie like no one I've ever met."

Try as best he could, Oliver couldn't wrap his mind around this version of his mother: so paranoid, so afraid. There was nothing for him to say in response to her assertion so he chose to say nothing. It didn't matter to his mother that he did not answer for she just continued speaking, "Walter's arrival has been delayed by business until tomorrow." Oliver didn't much care, but it was clear that his mother did and so he spent most of the day trying to cheer her spirits. But the mysterious room was never far from his mind. What was behind that door? Why had Olivia been talking to no one? The longer he stayed in this place the more confused he became.

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><p><strong>AN:** Guys, I love that you all are favorite/following this story, but you know what else is an even better sign that you all like this story? Reviews. Please review.


	3. The Attic

**Title:** Wilted Flowers  
><strong>Author:<strong> QueencestQueen  
><strong>Pairings: <strong>Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M (or E, depending on the rating system)

**Summary:**  
><em>What is this place? <em>The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

**Notes/Warnings:**  
>- AU for the entire series.<br>- Inspired by "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews  
>- This chapter was not beta'd, unfortunately.<p>

**Disclaimer:**  
>All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.<p>

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><p>That afternoon, after his weird encounter with Olivia and spending the day getting reacquainted with his mother, Oliver was greeted at lunch with the news that the road had been cleared of any hindering debris from the previous night's storm. He was pleased with the chance to escape that unusual Twilight Zone of a mansion. Even that crappy motel he was currently checked into was appealing compared to this place. Yet, as Oliver was eating his soup in the silence of meal time, he couldn't forget that strange room at the end of the hall and the curiosity it wrought. It shouldn't trouble him so much. Olivia was getting up there in years; it was entirely plausible that what he'd seen was just a lapse of sanity. He'd learned long ago to trust his instincts though and his gut was telling him that there was more to what he'd seen, that it was not just a case of senility. He needed to investigate that room.<p>

It was just a matter of timing. Olivia would definitely need to be out of the mansion for an extended period. Clearly, she wanted no one to be in that room and, if he wanted to have time to satisfy his curiosity he couldn't risk her finding him there. Ideally, he'd also like to have his mother out of the house too. She was so changed by this place that he simply could not trust that her loyalty lay with him.

Then Olivia presented him with the perfect opportunity. She turned to him rather suddenly and said, "We are having a party for members of our church tonight if you'd like to attend, Mister Quentin." It wasn't the warmest invitation that he'd ever received, but he suspected that the elder woman was incapable of warmth. His mother shot him a frantic look, but Oliver couldn't pass up the chance. How was he to turn down his chance to get to meet the closed minded people that had almost cost him his very existence? He wanted to meet them, to hear their beliefs for himself.

Besides, how could he pass up the perfect opportunity to explore that room? So, he did what was expected of him. He attended the party, conversed with the members of his grandparents' church and avoided talking to either Olivia or Malcolm one on one. He did everything right so that when he exited the large, yet intimate gathering, no one had even batted an eye when he claimed to need the restroom and disappeared from the party.

He didn't let his minor victory get to his head, though, creeping on quiet feet towards that mystifying door. Ever since he'd seen the stern woman enter that room, it had plagued his thoughts. He couldn't figure out why the mystery was haunting him. There were plenty of other questions to occupy his mind, many of them more pressing then that room and yet...

Oliver sighed as he came to a halt in front of the wood door and knelt down. He knew why; he was avoiding facing reality. He focused on the room to keep from thinking about Thea. It had never occurred to him on his journey to Virginia that he might be returning Starling City by himself. The idea of going home without his sister had not crossed his mind. Thinking about the room was so much easier then dealing with all he'd suddenly lost.

It took him only a minute to pick the old door lock. It opened as he turned the knob and he was quick to step inside the room lest someone spot him. He leaned back against the door for a moment with his eyes closed before he opened them and discovered…nothing. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to find inside the room, but whatever it was, it wasn't what he'd found.

The room was simply that, a room. The walls were all dark paneled wood and the few windows were heavily curtained. There was a single twin bed and a nightstand was placed beside it upon which only a bible and a small lamp rested. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a dresser beside the door where Oliver stood. There was not a single speck of dust anywhere and nothing was out of place. It was all perfect. Too perfect.

Oliver stepped away from the door and began to look closely at the room for any sign of why Olivia would have come inside. There was nothing. Not a single thing, which was evidence of something peculiar in and of itself. Just as he was about to give up, having found nothing out of the ordinary about the empty guest quarters, he heard it. After a few heartbeats of absolute stillness, it came again: a creak from above his head.

He frowned in confusion. There was no floor above him and yet there was continual creaks and squeaks. It didn't much sense. Once more convinced there was something peculiar, Oliver began to explore the room in depth. He found the secret entrance inside of the closet on accident when his elbow struck it in an attempt to find the light switch for the small bulb above his head. Curiosity eating at him, Oliver didn't hesitate to climb the darkened staircase.

The attic room, lit only by moonlight streaming in through the single window he could spot, was nothing like the attic that they had possessed in Starling City. There was old, forgotten items cluttering the space, but the room's uniqueness stemmed from the art covering its wall space; every spare inch of wall space, not covered by furniture, depicted something. The pictures chronicled a great deal as Oliver walked the long space. The paintings near the stairway that he'd just climbed where clearly done by a child, but with each step he took the paintings that then evolved into drawings matured and grew in complexity. He'd be truly impressed by the body of work if seeing it didn't inspire such sadness.

With each depiction he passed, it became more and more clear who the artist was. The creations had started innocently enough: a tree, a butterfly, a dog. Just before the artist had run out of paint, the images became more telling: an older man pushing a little girl on a swing, a large house that looked like Queen Manor. Then mid room, came the most damning evidence, a portrait of himself and his father. Each step he took from that point was filled with dread as he passed images of Tommy, Laurel, Sara and even one of Detective and Mrs. Lance. Most prevalent among the images adorning the walls though were various drawings of his father or himself. There was only one person who could have made these. Some of the depicted moments had only been between them, between himself and Thea.

By the time he rounded the corner, the drawings were really well done, no longer the work of childish hands, but that of a skilled adult. Instead of the individual drawings that had covered the rest of the attic walls, these three walls depicted a single image: a large ocean with choppy waves and yacht struggling to stay upright among the unsettled water. It was an eerie depiction of the Queen's Gambit's final moment. Why had she drawn that? It was so painstakingly done too. _It must have taken her weeks to complete_, he thought, and then shivered. The idea of her, his bubbly little sister, in this attic for weeks was bad, though clearly based on the body of work displayed in this stuffy room, she been here for more than a few weeks. _Oh God._

Thea didn't notice him, standing off to her right side. She should have heard him coming, he'd not been quiet on his approach, but her attention was entirely on the picture she was sketching on the floorboards. He took a few steps back and a little to the left so he could glimpse the image that had so engrossed her. Surrounded by both sharpened pencils and well used nubs was a picture of a place he had only visited once and could never forget: his gravesite. She'd taken great efforts in depicting both his and his father's headstones; the shading and defects in both stone surfaces were perfect. It was eerie.

She was focused, however, on the spot in the drawing next to his gravestone. His stomach plummeted as he leaned forward on his toes to peer over her head. She was engraving a name upon a third stone: her own. He reached then to take her shoulder. She needed to know he was there; she needed to stop drawing that picture.

She turned suddenly, startled like a frightened rabbit, and Oliver took a step back from shock. Her face was gaunt, her cheeks and eye sockets hollowed out, but it was the look in her gaze that scared him most. His Speedy wasn't in those eyes. His Speedy, who'd made him pinky promise to be back in just a few days, was long gone. The girl looking at him now was sad and lost to the darkness of life.

Thea turned her head slightly as she looked at him. She didn't move or do anything else; she just blinked at him. For several tense seconds, the siblings were a frozen tableau. Then Thea stood up, frowning at him, her eyes turning hard as she closed the distance between them. She stopped walking once the two were standing toe to toe with each other. He opened his mouth to say something, say anything, when all of the sudden she pulled back and punched him. He reeled back, reaching up to cover his jaw where her fist connected.

"What the hell, Thea?" He asked angrily. That was not the way he'd imagined their reunion taking place at all. She wasn't listening to him though; her attention was focus solely on her knuckles. Her eyes were locked upon her bruising skin as if she'd never seen her own hand before. His anger dissipated at the confused look upon her face. "Thea? Are you okay?" He asked, moving toward her, "Speedy?"

Her eyes snapped up to his then as if she hadn't known he was there. Suddenly, Thea was flinging her arms around him and clinging almost to the point of pain, but he didn't dare complain. He simply wrapped his arms around her and held onto her tightly as she cried into his shoulder and neck. For several minutes, the two of them just stood there hugging until the tears stopped wrecking her small frame. Only when he was certain that she no longer needed his shoulder for her tears did he pull back to look down at her face. Up close the little things he'd noticed before were so much worse. With his arms wrapped around her as they were, he could feel each of her ribs and the very top jutt of her hipbones. _Oh God._ His mind was reeling. _She's alive. Mom lied. Why? Why did she tell me…why would she say such things?_

"Thea, what-" He started to ask before realizing that he had too many questions to ask and no idea where to start. It had been six years, six long years, since they'd spoken. Too much had changed. She simply blinked up at him, patiently waiting for him to finish the question. Patient had never been a word he'd used to describe his younger sister before. Always a ball of energy, that was his Speedy, but now…"Why haven't you said anything?"

It took several seconds, but eventually she said, "Ollie." That was it. Just his nickname. It was all he needed to understand her previous silence. Her voice was raw, rough and pained as she spoke the singular word and Oliver pulled her close again.

"Oh, Thea," he whispered into her long hair. "How long have you been alone in this room? How many years?"

"What year-"

"is it?" Oliver finished for her and Thea nodded against his chest. "2012." She was quiet for a moment as she did the mental calculations.

"Four years." Thea had been locked up in this room with no one else to interact with for four years. His stomach dropped at the thought. His Speedy didn't deserve this. She didn't belong here.

"Come on," He said suddenly making Thea jump a little in his arms, "we're leaving this place. Now." She backed away eyes wide with panic. She shook her head negatively. "Thea, what?"

She picked up a book from the floor and a nub of a pencil. Her hand flew frantically across the page for a minute before tossing the book to him. Oliver opened the book and scanned her writings. _Nowhere to go, Ollie. No home. No one. Have to stay. You should go. You need to go. Grandmother can't see you here, can't know you exist. Leave. _He stared at her words, a mix of sadness, horror and anger swirling in him.

"No, I'm not leaving. Not without you."

"You have to!" Thea insisted, hand flying to her throat from the pain speaking had caused her. Oliver flinched in sympathy. How long had she gone without speaking that even such small sentences caused her pain? "Grandmother-"

Oliver interrupted her, "I don't care." He insisted, standing and tugging her up to join him. "I don't care." He repeated determinedly. He didn't know why his mother had lied, why she'd left Thea in here, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting Thea out of this room. "You and I are getting out of here, now, and we're going home."

Thea's gaze dropped immediately to the floor then. Clearly, she had something to say, but could not do so. As that thought occurred to him, Oliver grew angry. Angry at the grandmother who'd clearly frightened Thea into complying over the years she'd been trapped. Angry at his mother who had allowed the young girl to sacrifice her youthful innocence for what? _Why would mom do this? Why would she keep Thea in this room? Why keep her a secret from me? What the hell had happened?_ No matter what reason Moira could conceive of for this act, it would never be enough.

Looking down upon his sister, so broken, so shattered, Oliver knew his relationship with his mother would never be the same. His love for, and perhaps more importantly, his trust in her was in tatters. All of the sudden, she'd made it a choice between herself and Thea. Pulling his sister into his side, wrapping a protective arm about her shoulders, he realized it was never a choice. Thea was his sister, she needed him; it was never a choice. "Come on," he said softly, "We're going home."

"Home." There was such a dreaminess to the single repeated word that Oliver felt a pang in his chest. He'd suffered so much on the island and the one fact he'd taken comfort in during all of it was that it was only him who'd had to go through such horror. But it hadn't been just him. Thea had gone through something terrible too, something different, but equally damaging. It wasn't right that they'd both suffered. It wasn't right that the simple notion of home should make his sister so…hopeful.

Before he could ask her anything further, Thea was pulling away from him and moving about the attic. Her footsteps were slow and a bit shaky, as if she were unable to trust her own body to continue moving, but she stepped with confidence, dodging loose or uneven boards with the air of someone well acquainted with the room itself. He watched as she went from one piece of furniture to another, gathering articles of clothing he'd not taken note of earlier. With her arms full, Thea made her way towards a suitcase that had clearly seen better days. She struggled to open it and Oliver moved quickly to assist her in her task. Once the worn, navy blue case was opened and the pile of garments in her arms was deposited. He took a hold of the handle in his left hand and he wrapped his right arm about her waist to assist her.

She nodded slowly, agreeing to the next task without needing him to say it, and together the two moved down the stairs. It was an arduous task for the girl. Oliver couldn't help wondering how it was exactly that Thea had climbed the stairs to get up to the attic that morning when she was having such trouble getting down them. He pulled his sister to his side tighter as they finally reached the room at the end of the staircase. She was swaying upon her feet as they walked out of the closet and into the main room again.

Only with her at his side, did Oliver truly realize what had been so glaring about this room before. It was too empty, too clean. His sister had been living here for four years and yet there was no evidence of her. No sign that she'd spent even a minute in this room, much less four years. Why was that? _Had their grandmother, who she'd spoken so fearfully of earlier, forced her into being this invisible?_ The thought made him even more proud of the art in the attic. She'd not been wholly invisible. She'd defied whatever made her forgotten in this room and made sure that the attic bore her markings. She made sure that she wouldn't be forgotten, even if it was in such a little way. It was an ever so small glimmer of the sister he remembered.

"Ready?" He asked softly causing Thea to jump a bit at his side. She nodded eagerly, the first sign of excitement that he'd seen from her yet. He smiled in the hopes that she'd stay as alive as she suddenly seemed. Together the two walked to the door as a unit, both his hands occupied, one on her hip and the other one holding her suitcase. She reached forward, hand hesitating slightly before the grabbing the knob and twisting. The door opened and Thea stared out of the doorway as if she couldn't quite believe her eyes. He gripped her hip just a little tighter to shake the shock from her and she looked at him, briefly before they crossed through the door together. Once in the hallway, Thea's eyes swept over her surroundings eagerly, trying to absorb everything. _Had things changed so greatly over the last four years, _Oliver wondered,_ or is it all the same as it was when she arrived?_

Thea leaned curiously over the banister a bit to look down at the gathering still going on below. Huh. Oliver had kind of forgotten that there was a party at all. _Guess that's normal for when one finds their supposedly dead sister alive in an attic nearly starved to death. _Suddenly as if knowing she was being watched, Moira's eyes shot up to their floor and Thea scrambled back, terrified. It was such a sudden movement that Oliver stumbled as well, having had such a firm hold on her as she moved. He didn't need to ask her why she was frightened by their mother seeing them. It was obvious from the panic in her wide eyes, she feared being caught out of her room. Thea was crowding back against the wall, the furthest she could get from the bannister and anyone's possible eye-line. He recognized those behaviors. She was acting like a trapped and frightened wild animal. _What the hell had they done to my baby sister?_

He had half a mind to march down there and just lay into his mother, his grandmother, and whomever else for this. _I'll start with our names and tell them all exactly who we are. _He would do it too…except for Thea. She looked so scared just being out of that room. He couldn't put her through any confrontation. It wouldn't be fair to her and she'd suffered so much unfairness in the past years. Oliver wasn't about to be the cause of anymore harm coming to her. How then was he going to get her out of this place if he couldn't get her to the first floor safely? _How?_

"Thea," Oliver said approaching her carefully. Her green eyes shot to his immediately alight emotion he couldn't quite read. "What should we do? What do you want to do? Should we go down there and just leave or…" He trailed off, unsure what the other option was exactly. However, he couldn't force her to descend those stairs, though; not when she was so frightened. "Or we could head to the room I crashed in until everyone leaves," He suggested softly, moving to stand in front of her. It was the best he could do to shield her from what was frightening her so. "We can sneak out in the night and you'll need to see no one."

Thea just stood there and looked at him. She blinked and breathed, but that was it. Oliver couldn't look away. It felt as if the two of them were balancing on a edge of something as they stared at each other. He didn't want to risk her fall off that precipice alone. Then, suddenly, Thea's expression changed. Her features shifted from panicked to something blank, almost cold. It was worrying. However, before he could think too much on it, she did something Oliver could never have anticipated. She pulled herself up to her full height and crossed to the banister again. Instead of only peeking over it as she had done before, Thea peered over it without any attempt to conceal herself. She looked down at her dress, slightly dirty, and straightened the straps on her shoulders and tugged on the fabric about her hips. It didn't fit her skinny frame quite right, but still when she turned to face him, he found himself briefly astounded by her beauty. _There's my Speedy._

"Let's go." She said, reaching out for his hand, almost instinctively. He grabbed her hand quickly and squeezed gently. Together, the two started down the staircase. It, like in the attic, was a slow descent, but no one took notice of them. The church going folk were much too focused on their inane conversations to see much of anything at all. The duo crossed to the edge of the large foyer, around the fringes of the party. The closer they got to the door, the harder Thea squeezed his hand, but he paid it no attention. _Just get to the door, just get her out. _That was all he could think as they moved stealthily. Yet with each step they took, Oliver felt as though something terrible was about to happen. There was no reason to think such things after all, they were almost to the grand door. Then it happened.

"Oliver." Thea froze beside him as their mother's voice sounded above the din of the party. He tightened his grip on her hand and urged her to continue moving with a push of his hip against hers. The girl took the hint and grabbed the doorknob pulling it open. As soon as the first gust of wind hit her face, Thea was running out the door dragging her brother behind her. He thought, for sure, that as soon as they breached the wrought-iron gates they would have stopped running, but Thea kept going. The further away they got from the house the more concerned Oliver grew. _She shouldn't be running so hard, so fast. So suddenly._

Soon after that thought occurred to him, the duo was suddenly jerked to a stop as Thea collapsed to the ground. Her face was bloodless and scrunched in pain when he turned to look at her. _Of course she cannot run. She's been stuck in that room for years. _He handed the suitcase off to her and swept her up into his arms before she could think to ask him what was happening. He'd call for a taxi to take them to the motel as soon as they were far enough away, but for now… "I'm getting you out of here, Speedy." He explained softly and carried her further down the road.

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><p><strong>AN:** Sorry, this chapter took so long. The next chapter is fighting me a bit, but it's almost done. **Please review!** It inspires me to write faster. ;)


	4. Rooms

**Title:** Wilted Flowers  
><strong>Author:<strong> QueencestQueen  
><strong>Pairings: <strong>Oliver/Thea (aka Queencest and/or Tholiver)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M (or E, depending on the rating system)

**Summary:**  
><em>What is this place? <em>The sign on the gate said "Foxworth Hall." Its Gothic style was intimidating and foreboding. He couldn't picture his mother and sister in that awful place. They belonged in somewhere light and happy, somewhere like their family home was their rightful place, not this house of dread. What the hell had happened during those five years?

**Notes/Warnings:**  
>- AU for the entire series.<br>- Inspired by "Flowers in the Attic," by VC Andrews  
>- This chapter was not beta'd, unfortunately.<p>

**Disclaimer:**  
>All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of this author. This author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.<p>

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><p>The moonlight streamed in through the window, broken up by the tree branches and their own shadows, as the car drove onward away from the hell house that was Foxworth Hall. Oliver was grateful for the shadowed light as it allowed him to see his sister despite the darkness of the night outside the taxicab. Thea was cuddled into his side as much as her seatbelt allowed; her head was bent at an almost painful angle to rest just barely on his shoulder. Under the silvery light, her features were even more distressing.<p>

In the dusty attic, he'd not truly comprehended the horror that was the physical ramifications of her last four years, but now he could see. He could see the hollows around and under her eyes while they moved under her eyelids in her light slumber. Her cheeks were darkened by the slight shadows of sunken skin and her lips were slightly cracked. Her skin was almost translucent under the light of the moon and there was a slight blue hue that lay under the surface. It was horrifying to see the changes in her face. When he'd left that mansion oh so long ago, she'd been a beautiful, perfect child; she was only twelve then, but she'd been smart, smarter than even he'd given her credit for, and beautiful, like a perfect little doll. He still remember how she'd giggled and twirled every time that their mother had bought her a new outfit.

Now she was verging on eighteen-years-old and she barely resembled the girl he'd left behind. There was still a beauty to her harrowed features, no amount of time or mistreatment could steal that from her, but the horrors she'd no doubt experienced had taken their toll. It was etched into her bones and ran under her skin. He suspected that it was only something someone like him could see, someone who faced the horrors of life too. However, whether others could see or not, it was still there in every slight move she made in her sleep, every twitch and hitch in her breathing. It had pained him to know that while he'd suffered on the island, she too had suffered in that attic room.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Oliver's gaze snapped from Thea to the cab driver's eyes in the rearview mirror. The man had been weary of ditching his planned fare for the two of them. However, when he had gotten a closer look at Thea in Oliver's arms, he'd radioed into his company to have them send another car for his planned fare and took them in. It was because of the man's kindness that Oliver didn't snap at him when he commented, "The girl looks very ill."

"No," Oliver said softly so as not to wake his the slumbering girl beside him, "she has an appointment with a doctor in the morning. I just want to get her to the motel and in bed." It took him only two seconds to hear how that sounded and attempt to correct the possible misunderstanding. "Into a bed, not..." He trailed off as he noticed the look the driver was shooting him in the mirror. "She's my sister. I'd never hurt her."

The man muttered, "Someone did," as Oliver's gaze turned once more to his sister's sleeping face. He couldn't argue with the man's claim. Someone had hurt Thea; someone who should have taken care of her.

He met the man's eyes in the rearview mirror and nodded. "Never again." The driver blinked solemnly before turning his gaze to the highway ahead of them once more.

It was only another fifteen minutes before the cab came to a stop in front of the motel. The red sign flickered in and out indicating the numerous vacancies they had. Oliver turned a little in his seat to shake the girl awake gently, "Thea, Thea, wake up, we're here, Speedy." Her green eyes blinked open slowly and, for a second, she looked as he remembered, innocent and unencumbered by the years they'd spent apart, and then it was gone. Suddenly, the shadows rushed back to her eyes. "Come on," he whispered again as he reached over without looking and pulled on the door handle to open it.

He slid out of the cab and she followed him without a word, still holding tight to the suitcase. Suddenly he was glad he'd chosen to wear the outfit he'd arrived to Foxworth Hall in to the party. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet, paying and tipping the driver very well for his trouble; the keycard to the room was retrieved at the same time. "Thank you," he said to the driver sincerely and the man nodded before driving away from the Budget Inn, leaving the two reunited siblings alone in the parking lot.

Oliver turned to Thea and held up the key between his index and middle fingers. "Shall we head in for the night?" She smiled a little Oliver led the way to the room he'd rented. The little green light flashed three times and then, with a push on the handle, they were inside.

"I'm sorry it's not a nicer room," He said as he clicked on the florescent lights bathing the space in a hideous orange glow. "I didn't think I'd be here more than a couple of days," Oliver explained, "and well, I didn't think I'd actually find you here." No, given that her name had failed to come up in any of Felicity's internet research, Oliver had honestly hoped that his sister was simply too busy studying hard in college to do anything internet worthy. He'd never imagined that he would find her locked in a room like he did. It was simply unfathomable.

"It's fine," Thea whispered, hand still moving unconsciously to her throat. She took a tentative seat on the edge of the bed. "It's wonderful…" She trailed off, but Oliver knew what she meant; anything was better than that room.

He sat down beside her, "We'll rent a better room from a better place tomorrow." He was determined to get her the best room in the grandest hotel in Virginia for a couple of days before they moved on. It wouldn't make up for anything, but it would ease his mind just a little for a few days. Her yawn broke the silence only seconds after it had fallen upon them and he turned to smile a little at her, "Why don't you lie down and get some more sleep? I'm just going to step outside for a couple of minutes to check in with a few people back home." Her panicked look in response to his suggestion had him quickly adding, "I'll be right outside the door, Speedy."

She still looked a little uneasy about the idea, but she nodded her okay anyway. He decided to take a chance and leaned over a little so he could press a tiny kiss to her temple. It was something he used to do when she was scared of the monsters under her bed and she'd crawled into his seeking safety. A small, slightly broken sound escaped her lips when he pulled back, but it wasn't a sad sound, just…surprised. "Right outside the door." He reminded her as he reached for his cellphone in his pocket.

Just as he was slipping back out into the night air, he saw Thea move towards the bathroom, still carrying her suitcase. He was unsurprised to find that he had several voicemails from both John and Felicity, but he didn't have the time to listen to them. Oliver clicked on John's name in the list and listened to it ring once, twice, three times before a groggy John Diggle answered the phone. It was a quick conversation, nothing more than a quick exchange of pleasantries before he got to the point of his call. "Dig, do you know any doctors in Virginia? Preferably a doctor that could see us after hours, off the books?"

"Us?" Diggle asked, his voice crackling through the iPhone's speaker. "Did you find them, your mother and sister? What's wrong?"

"Do you know a doctor or not, Dig?" Oliver asked curtly. He didn't have time to feed the older man's curiosity.

Diggle seemed to get the message. "Yeah, I'll make the call in the morning."

"Thanks."

"Be careful, Oliver."

"Always," Oliver assured his bodyguard. It had felt kind of stupid to be hiring a bodyguard when he was quite capable of defending himself. What had started as merely a show for the public after his kidnapping upon returning to Starling City turned out to be one of the best decisions he'd ever made. The former military man had been a fantastic asset when Oliver was trying to complete his mission. Even when Oliver had temporarily put a hold on that to find his family, Diggle was willing to assist him. Sure, it hadn't always been easy, they'd butted heads on several occasions, but theirs was a camaraderie that Oliver wouldn't change for anything.

He thought about calling Felicity while he was contacting people, but he knew that if he did the girl would babble endlessly. Usually he found the babble was comforting, a little endearing even, but didn't have time for that at the moment; he had to get back to Thea. He sent her a quick text with the basic, 'yes, I'm alive and okay, call tomorrow,' before making his way back into the motel room.

The sight of his sister sprawled out on the bed in ill-fitting nightclothes had him smiling in a rare moment of peace. It was so like many moments he remembered; as if the last several years were nothing but a nightmare and he was once more confronted with his little tweleve-year-old Speedy once again. With a few button pushes, Oliver flipped his phone to do-not-disturb settings and set the alarm. He put the device down on the nightstand and triple checked the door locks, before moving to the bed. He picked his sleeping sister up, threw the covers back, and set her down again on the far side of the bed, away from the door. He pulled the covers up and tucked her in tightly before he was climbing in beneath the covers himself. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest in the process. He rested his chin in her hair and let sleep claim him. They were together now and that was all that mattered, wasn't it?

The next day the two siblings spent together in the motel room. He'd tried to convince her to leave after they woke, to get breakfast, but she refused to do so. As a compromise between her desire to stay in the rented room and the necessity of food, Oliver called out for it. Except for eating, the two of them simply spent their day talking to each other. Wwll he talked and Thea wrote her words on the complimentary notepad. Instead of discussing the years they'd spent apart, Oliver and Thea discussed happier times; memories, it turned out, that had sustained them both while they were not together. It was only after Diggle confirmed that his doctor friend, from his time in the armed forces, was willing to see them after hours and off the books that Oliver even dared broach the subject. It had taken a lot of pleading on his part to make Thea stop shaking her head and attend the appointment, but they'd made it.

Once there, Oliver sat stiff and utterly still outside of the doctors' office. Diggle's doctor friend had grumbled when he'd insisted on sitting right outside the examination room, but Oliver would not be moved. He'd sworn to Thea that he'd stay outside the room while the doctor checked her out. Every half a minute or so, he saw her angling her head to look out the small glass pane in the door. _Is she checking to make sure I've not left her? Or is she concerned that I'm a figment of her imagination?_

He wanted to know what was going through her head so badly. _What is she feeling? What had she gone through? _His hands clenched at his sides. He wanted so badly to go back to that house of horrors and demand answers. _Why did mom lock Thea away like that?_ No answer she could ever give would be suitable enough to explain away her actions, but he still wanted an answer. _Why had she lied to him and said that Thea had killed herself? Was she simply too ashamed of what she'd done to her daughter? Or perhaps she'd feared his reaction if she'd told him the truth?_ This, he mused, as he smiled tightly when his sister's green eyes peered from behind her privacy curtain, was not a better way to find out. His impulsive, angry nature wanted to march back to Foxworth Hall, but he could not. Thea wasn't ready for him to leave her side yet and there was no way in Hell that he was taking her back there.

He sat up a little straighter as Doctor Blanchard stepped from behind the curtain. She pulled the mint green paper divider back, allowing him a full image of Thea. Though he'd not thought it possible, Thea looked even tinier in the drooping paper gown. The doctor talked from a few minutes and then gestured out towards the hallway. Thea turned then to look at him for a second before turning back to the doctor and saying something followed by a brief nod. A few seconds more and the doctor was exiting the room.

"Mr. Queen?" The woman said as soon as the door to the examination room was closed behind her. "Your sister will be done in a minute, she's just getting redressed." She nodded then seemingly to herself, flipping a few pages on her clipboard. "She's almost eighteen now and she tells me that you aren't her legal guardian so normally I couldn't discuss her health with you. She gave me permission, however, and I'm aware that your situation is unique, so once she is finished redressing all of us will sit and discuss." He nodded, his eyes still watching for his sister to reappear.

The doctor pointedly cleared her throat dragging his attention away from the room. "While we wait, though, I must recommend your sister seek some serious psychiatric help."

"What?"

"In the hour we just spent together, I could only get her to tell me what was absolutely necessary." She sighed and let the clipboard drop to her side, "I'm not saying she should have told me everything, she doesn't know me, but her reluctance to answer even the simplest of inquiries without serious consideration is quite telling in and of itself. Her physical trauma tells more of the story for her...and it's not a good one."

"Physical trauma?" Oliver echoed, voice going hollowed as panicked eyes turned back to the door that separated them. His mind recalling, against his will, painful memories of his time on the island. What was taking her so long?

"I'm sorry, that was a poor choice of phrase," The doctor said. "I just meant that, as a doctor, her body gives me clues to what she won't say."

"And what she's not saying tells you she needs to see a shrink?" He asked turning to look at the doctor once again as he saw the door to the attached bathroom open.

"I'm saying that it couldn't hurt her..." The woman met his eyes for a moment before adding, "It wouldn't do you any harm either."

"Excuse me?" He'd not said more than three sentences to the doctor and yet she presumed to know enough about him to suggest he see a psychiatrist.

"When John called me, I googled you, Mr. Queen." She explained, "If even a fifth of what I found on the internet is true, talking through what happened might be good for you too." The door squeaked open then putting a halt to their conversation.

"I'm done," Thea said, eyeing them both with suspicion. Oliver tossed her a casual smile and followed her back inside the examination room. The siblings both took a seat on the paper-covered bed and Doctor Blanchard took a seat in her swiveling office chair across from them.

Once they were all settled, the doctor started telling them her diagnosis on Thea. Every word she said was a bunch of doctor jargon, but Oliver understood the basics anyway. Due to a lack of sunshine exposure and exercise, Thea's bones were more weakened then they should be at her age, her muscles were slightly deteriorated, and that was just the start of it. Apparently, even her ability to breathe had been affected by her captivity. It was at this point that Thea slipped her hand into his. He knew why it was that his sister had taken his hand; she feared whatever else the doctor might have to say. He didn't blame her for it; he too was scared of what would be said. The young doctor didn't seem to notice their unease. She just ploughed forward in her explanation by saying that Thea was suffering from malnutrition, which Oliver knew just by looking at her.

"What worries me most is your vocal cords, Miss Queen," She said, casting a worried, watery smile at the girl, "and your heart, of course."

"Her heart? What's wrong with her heart?" Oliver asked frantically.

The doctor's gaze turned to him as if she'd forgotten he was sitting beside her patient. "Well, the heart is a muscle too and, just like the ones in her arms and legs, it has suffered from the lack of proper exercise over the years. It has slightly atrophied as well, but unlike the other muscles I've discussed, if she pushes her heart too hard, it could give out."

"Heart attack?" Thea asked in her rough voice.

"She's far too young for that." Oliver countered out of sheer stubbornness. "She's only 17."

"Yes, I am aware of that," The doctor said, looking between them. "Just...go easy, okay? Don't push your body too hard too fast. All things in moderation, yeah?" Oliver turned his gaze to Thea then. He searched her features for a sign, any sign of what she was thinking. Once upon a time, he could read her thoughts and moods better than a book. It seemed that time had stolen that from him as well. "Now, as for her vocal cords, disuse has damaged them as well." She sighed a little and looked down at her clipboard briefly, "This is another case of moderation, Miss Queen. If you use your voice too much or too loudly too soon, you could permanently lose your voice. Write most, talk a little for a while and gradually increase the use of your vocal cords, okay?" Thea nodded weakly and Oliver squeezed her hand again. It would be okay; he was here now.

Later that day, after Oliver checked them out of the motel, the duo was standing in the lobby of the lovely Omni Charlottesville Hotel waiting to check in. Luckily he'd called ahead and reserved a room while Thea was changing before her doctor's appointment. He looked back at her as he moved further up in the queue, unsurprised to see that she was still clutching at her suitcase. "Next, please," called the desk clerk, drawing his attention away from his nervous sister.

Oliver pulled his wallet from his jacket as he moved up to the counter, pulling out his identification in the process. "Oliver Queen, checking in." He said, sliding his card across the counter to the woman.

The woman smiled brightly as her fingernails tapped on the keys. Her eyes scanned the screen before she looked up at him again. Once more her smile was just a bit too big and bright. "Ah, yes, Mr. Queen," she said in a simpering voice, "I have your reservation right here. Deluxe room, mountain-view, one king sized bed." She slid his identification back to him along with two keycards. "Your room number is 610."

"I'm sorry," Oliver said, flashing the woman his best for-the-camera smile, "but did you say one bed? I reserved a two doubles room."

A few more keys were clicked before the woman looked up again, her eyes flickering down briefly, "I'm terribly sorry, sir, but all of our double bed rooms are booked up for the night."

He looked back at Thea, all shifty-eyed and nervous energy. She deserved her own bed, something with big, soft blankets, and at least one night where she didn't have to nervously watch the door. He'd caught her watching the door with eagle eyes several times over the night…and he'd woken once to the feeling of her stroking his face, but he did his best to hide his awareness. He'd laid there as her fingers ran over his face over and over again until the calming motions lulled him once more to sleep.

She was worried that he wasn't really there; worried that someone would come in and snatch her away to return her to that dreaded room. She'd said nothing, of course, but he knew. He knew because he'd worried about the same things since returning from Lian Yu. Every morning that dawned, Oliver knew there was a risk that his enemies could show up and take everything away. Every time he went to sleep, he worried that the next time he opened his eyes he'd still be on that damned island, still be wishing for his home, his family. He knew her fear because he shared it.

"That's fine," he said, scooping up the keycards and his identification. He headed back to Thea.

"All set," He said, handing her one of the room keys. She gifted him with a small smile, flipping the key over so the side with the name of the hotel on it was visible. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off because he knew what she intended on saying. There was no use in her wasting her voice for thoughts she'd already expressed in writing earlier. "Nope, not having this argument again." He said with a gentle smile. She sighed and then nodded, leading the way to the elevator. He followed after her, his suitcase rolling behind him silently.

Their room was quite nice, certainly nicer than the one they'd just left. The sight of it didn't make an impression on him, but clearly it did upon her. She rushed to the large window, pulling the curtains wide to gaze upon the mountain-view. Oliver took her suitcase from her gently and went to put them beside the bed. To his surprise, she was still standing in front of that large window. He frowned slightly when he noticed the shine of tears upon her cheeks and arms wrapped defensively around her middle.

"Speedy?" He asked quietly as he walked over to her, wrapping his arms about her shoulders and pulling her into a gentle hug.

"It's beautiful," She whispered as she turned in his arms so that she could both see the view and rest her head upon him "It's been years…" Her voice cracked slightly and wavered. He pressed his lips to her hair to stop her from continuing her sentence. He clutched tighter to her in response to the idea she implied. Thea wasn't done explaining her tears, though. "Only seen the view from the attic roof for years."

"You climbed out onto the roof?"

Thea nodded, "Had to. Needed fresh air, sun." That small utterance filled Oliver with pride. His Speedy was smart and brave. "But only on Thursdays for an hour." She added.

Only an hour a week in the fresh air, in the sun…and in such a dangerous place too. _How could anyone treat Thea like that_? Oliver couldn't comprehend it and he had been witness to the darkness of the human soul on Lian Yu…or, at least, he thought that he had. The people in Foxworth Hall were making him question that. "Why?" He asked, though part of him dreaded knowing the answer.

"That's the only day the help has off and the grandparents are out. _Can'_t be seen_._" The way she said it, the urgency behind the words, told Oliver that this was one of those things that she'd been forced to abide over and over.

Oliver closed his eyes and rested his chin atop her head, "No more, Speedy. Whatever you want, okay? Just say the word."

She nodded, leaning just a little into his solid weight as she did so, "Can we just stay like this for a little while?"

"Absolutely."

The two of them stayed standing there until well after the sunset, just watching as the sun's descent altered the view. He'd seen many things over his years, but he had never really taken the time to truly see them. In this moment, with Thea safe and sound in his arms, he saw the beauty in the mountains outside the window. It was only when Oliver's stomach audibly rumbled that the moment was broken. "Hungry?" Thea asked jokingly and, though it was said tentatively, it was a spark of the sister he remembered.

"Yes, actually," he said because, despite his desire to continue their teasing banter, he was acutely aware that just a few hours earlier the doctor had said Thea was underweight. Any attempt at being jovial on his part would just come off callous and mean. "How about we order in some food from room service and watch a movie in bed while we eat it?" It was weak of him to suggest they watch a movie when they really needed to talk, but he feared those coming conversations. He didn't talk about what had happened to him on the island and he knew Thea would want to know. He just wasn't ready.

The small smile on her face wasn't missed by his keen eyes. "Sounds good. Can I get changed first?"

"Of course." Oliver said, while she moved towards the bathroom, suitcase still in hand. _What is in that thing?_ He wondered as he picked up the room service menu. "What do you feel like eating?" He called, hoping she could hear him through the closed door separating them.

"I'm not really hungry."

"You have to eat, Thea." He chided, but not loud enough for her to hear it. He read over the menu, but his stomach chose for him before his eyes registered the word. "I'm thinking about a cheeseburger." He said as the door swung open and Thea walked back in.

"Ooh," she said as she hopped onto the bed. She was now dressed in a too-large men's t-shirt and shorts, or so he was force to assume, as the shirt slid off her shoulders a little putting the bottom hem just a little past her knees. _Was that one of mine?_ "That sounds really good. Can I have one too?"

"Can your stomach handle that?" He asked, remembering what the doctor said about moderation. He didn't want her to get sick because her eyes were bigger than her stomach could handle.

Thea frowned, but didn't automatically argue with him. She considered his question seriously. "I think so," she said cautiously. "Can I try?"

"Just don't push yourself, okay? If you get full, stop."

"Okay." With both their meals chosen, Oliver picked up the room's landline and placed the order for two burgers with fries, and two sodas. Thea pursued the pay-per-view movies that were offered by the hotel while he did so. Her lips moved as she read the summaries to herself. Once he hung up with the food service people, he too began reading the movie options. There were so many possibilities, so many new flicks that they'd missed; it boggled the mind. "This is impossible." Thea whispered, startling him a bit.

"It is," he agreed. It was Thea who decided to just try channel surfing for something. By the time their dinners arrived, the siblings had settled on a FRIENDS marathon. He answered the door mid laugh. "Thanks." He said as he signed the credit card slip and tipped the man politely before taking the cart and pushing it into the room. He closed the door with one hand, "Dinner's served!" He declared, uncovering the platters with a flourish. She scrambled to the end of the bed to snatch one of the sodas off the cart and started sipping at it. He handed her one of the plates and grabbed his own. Both of them set their meals down briefly to get comfortable once more before digging into their burgers. The laughter that bubbled out of them both made eating a bit of a risky task but they both managed to survive.

"I forgot how much I loved this show," Thea said, resting her head upon his shoulder as she sipped at her almost empty soda.

"Me too," Oliver agreed softly, munching idly on a now cold French fry. He hadn't actually forgotten anything. He'd remembered everything; five years was a long time to linger in one's memories. The two of them stayed like that long past the end of the FRIENDS marathon and into a new show, How I Met Your Mother.

Oliver was shocked into awareness once more by the sounds of whimpering. For a few seconds, he was confused. _When did I fall asleep? _The last thing he remembered was laughing and patting Thea's back as she coughed from laughing too hard. The whimpering noise came again and Oliver turned on his side, facing his sister's back. She was hunched in on herself so tightly that she was just a ball on the other side of the bed. He reached out and placed a hand on her back gently. Immediately, she flinched and pulled away in her sleep, making him frown. "Thea," he said, softly and she cried out harder when she heard his voice. She was shaking almost violently under his hand now. _What's she dreaming? _He wondered as he slid closer to her. "Thea, wake up. It's just a dream, Speedy."

"No," she croaked in her sleep, "no, not him. No." She shivered and Oliver couldn't take it anymore. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist, pinning her arms to her body in case she started to fight or fidget.

"Thea, Speedy, wake up," Oliver said near her ear, "Come on, come back. It's not real. It's just a nightmare, okay?" The shaking stopped and from his new position, he could see her eyelashes flutter open. "There you are."

"Ollie?" The confusion in her voice was obvious, but he was distracted making sure she didn't kick him as she uncurled her body. Oliver released her from the prison of his arms and she turned onto her other side to face him.

"We need to start talking." Oliver said definitively. There was no more putting it off, no more being unprepared. She needed to talk and, in all honesty, he did too. They would be each other's sounding boards. _Who needs therapists?_


End file.
